


fighting a losing war

by jimkrk



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Post Death Cure, but this is crap, i haven't written anything in ages so pls forgive me, jESUS CH RIST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimkrk/pseuds/jimkrk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years and eight days after they escaped, Thomas got declared for dead.<br/>They had found his shirt, bloody and torn, in the woods.<br/>Everyone had known about the incident but Minho.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fighting a losing war

**Author's Note:**

> okay soooo, i tried a different writing style than i usually use so yeah and i didn't proofread this so there might be a few mistakes I'm s or ry  
> also i got inspired by some other thominho fic on here, but i don't remember its name, all i remember is that the writing style is pretty similar, but that fic is much better so yeah  
> okay have fun reading this I'm done

Two years after they escaped, Thomas’ world collapsed around him and Minho didn’t realize it. Not, until it was too late.   
He’d run off in the middle of the night with just as much as the clothes he’d been wearing.  
Minho was sure Thomas would come back soon enough, though. Because that’s what Minho always did. He would run off for a few hours and then return later on.  
But this time was different.

Two years and eight days after they escaped, Thomas got declared for dead.  
They had found his shirt, bloody and torn, in the woods.  
Everyone had known about the incident but Minho.   
But eventually he’d heard Brenda crying about it and she’d told him.  
His first reaction was denial; not sadness, not anger; just denial.  
Thomas couldn’t be dead.  
That stupidly brave genius of a shank.  
He couldn’t just be dead.  
Still, the tears that ran down Brenda’s cheeks and the silence that had settled over Paradise within the next days made it clear.  
Thomas was dead.

Two years and twelve days after they escaped, Minho spent the night on the cliff where he and Thomas had last met.   
His legs dangled over the edge and every time he moved, a little part of the edge broke off and fell into the ocean that stretched out to the horizon.  
“You love him, don’t you?” Brenda’s voice startled him.  
“I don’t love him. I never did. He was my best friend, but now all that is gone. I hate him, Brenda. I hate him for running off in the middle of the night. I hate him for leaving us when we needed him. I hate him for leaving me, even though he knew I wake up every single night, plagued by nightmares when he isn’t in reach.” He laughed bitterly. “This is pathetic. I can’t hate someone who’s dead.”  
Brenda slowly sat down next to him and leaned her head on Minho’s shoulder.  
“It’s okay, Minho. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

Three years after they escaped, he still wasn’t fine.   
Every single morning he woke up and his first instinct was to look after Thomas and Newt.  
Neither of them were there.  
There in “Paradise”.   
But Minho was still there, fighting a war he’d already lost.  
Minho would always be there.

Three years and eight months after they escaped, his swipe broke.   
The memories came flooding in the middle of the night and he screamed himself awake.  
His heart was beating too fast. His breath caught in his throat. He choked and threw up on the floor next to his bed.  
His mom smiling through her tear-stained cheeks, his father being taken away by guards, a holograph of Chancellor Paige, telling him to work with her, saying it would save billions of people’s lives, a group of girls walking past him, one of them waved at him, a maybe 12 year-old Newt laughing and hooking an arm around Alby’s shoulders, class rooms, his own face in a mirror, his real name, his first kiss.   
It all came back so fast.  
But his last memory stretched.  
Tears had streamed down Thomas’ face as he’d reached out for Minho’s hand, to pull him back to him, to pull him back from an eventual goodbye. The guards had been grabbing Minho by his shirt, trying to get him to the control room, where they’d install the swipe and send him up into the maze after not more as minutes later.  
“I’ll find you.” Thomas had screamed at the top of his lungs, as one of the guards kicked him in the stomach. “I’ll find you, Minho. I promise.”  
Thomas had found him, just to lose him a few years later.

Four years and eight days after they escaped, it was Thomas’ second death anniversary.   
It wasn’t until 4 pm, when Brenda knocked on his door.  
“Can I come in?” She asked in a small voice.  
Minho got up from the floor, where he’d been laying the entire day, staring at the ceiling, and opened the door for Brenda.  
He flinched, when Brenda pulled him into the tightest hug he’d ever experienced.  
“I miss him so much, Minho.” She was sobbing. “I miss him so goddamn much.”  
Minho held her tightly and stroked her back with his thumb.  
“It’s okay.” He whispered. Everyone does. Everyone but me.  
Later, she asked him to go to the big bonfire the former Gladers hat set up at the shore.  
He agreed.  
He did it for the sake of Thomas.  
Because of whom he was destroying himself.  
But Minho figured it was time to move on.   
And when you’ve hit rock bottom, every movement is a self-improvement.

He didn’t listen to the words Brenda said.  
He watched her mouth move, forming those words, he wasn’t paying attention to.  
He watched the smoke rise up to the sky.  
He watched the fire for a long time.  
But nothing was as beautiful as the way Brenda’s eyes lit up, when she saw the boy she loved.  
Minho didn’t know his name, all he knew is that this boy made Brenda happy and that he’s helped her through so much and that he loved her back.  
The boy squeezed Minho’s shoulder and told him he was sorry for Minho’s loss.  
Then, he excused himself and took Brenda with him for a walk.

Gally sat down next to him after a while and offered Minho a bottle of wine.  
Gratefully, he took the bottle and took a long sip.  
Who would’ve thought that Gally and Minho would ever get along?  
Minho had always been a believer that actions spoke louder than words could do, and Gally had done his best to change; and he’d managed to become someone better.  
“You okay, bud?” Gally asked and looked at Minho, who stared at the fire.  
“’m fine.”  
“Don’t look like it, though.”  
“Trust me on this.” Minho took another sip. “I’m feeling great.”

Four years and eleven months after they escaped, Minho thought he was going to be okay.  
He asked Gally if he could work with the builders from time to time and he agreed to it.  
The work distracted him from everything else around him and for the first time in years, he felt like he was getting his life together.  
It was something that had seemed so surreal to him until now.

Five years and two days after they escaped, Aris showed up at his hut.  
Aris was excited and his hands were shaking, just like he wasn’t believing something he’d just heard.  
“Minho!” He yelled and grabbed Minho by the shoulders, who backed off immediately.  
“Calm down, Aris. What the bloody hell happened to you?”  
“It’s Thomas!” Minho’s stomach dropped. “He’s alive.”

Five years and three days after they escaped, Minho’s world collapsed around him and Thomas realized it. But it was too late.  
Minho opened his eyes and squinted until he got used to the darkness around him, when someone knocked at the door.  
He opened, half expecting it to be Brenda, but he was wrong.  
Instead, he saw someone he didn’t want to see.  
He was taller now, he looked tired, his eyes were red and his lips were blue, snowflakes were in his hair, that was now sticking out into all directions, he’d grown stubble and he’d just gotten so much older.  
He wore a thick, brown coat and a red scarf that were both covered in snowflakes.   
“Minho.” He said in a voice, much deeper than Minho remembered. “Can I come in?”  
“No.” Minho answered, his voice breaking. “Go back where you came from. Just leave us alone.”  
Thomas took a step back.   
“Please. Let me in.”  
“Thomas, for almost three years I thought you were dead.” A sob caught in his throat. “And now you come back and expect me to just welcome you like nothing happened?”  
Minho’s eyes filled with tears, blurring his vision.  
“I hate you.” He whispered. “I hate you so much.”  
“Just let me explain.”  
“No!” Minho slammed the door shut and sunk to the floor.  
He closed his eyes and pulled his legs to his chest, he felt his hands trembling.  
“I am so fucking sorry.” He heard Thomas’ voice through the door, he sounded so defeated, so broken.  
It was the longest night of his life.

Five years and four months after they escaped, Minho talked to Thomas again.  
He sat at the shore, his feet buried in the wet sand.  
It was still cold, since spring had just begun, but Minho was thankful for it.  
Also, Minho was trying to distance himself from the others.  
They’d all been happy to have Thomas back.  
The only ones who’d been pissed at him were Gally and Minho himself, just now Gally was okay with it.  
Minho wasn’t.  
A wave crashed over his feet and the cold water ran beneath his legs.  
He shivered.

“Fuck.” He heard from above him and looked up.  
He was aware that he was sitting underneath the cliff, but usually people didn’t go there.  
A pair of feet was the only thing Minho could see, but he couldn’t make out whose it were.   
“I fucked up!” The boy screamed. “I fucked up!”  
“You okay there?” Minho yelled.  
“Fucking no!”  
The boy just pulled his legs back, but didn’t move except for that.  
Minho pulled his feet out of the sand and made his way up to the cliff.  
Sticks and stones dug into his feet and it hurt, but something in the boy’s voice made Minho feel responsible for him.   
He couldn’t allow that boy to let himself down like Minho did.

It was Thomas.  
“Listen to me. Just this one time.” He said and stepped closer to Minho.  
“I don’t want to hear it, Thomas.”  
“I don’t care!” Thomas grabbed Minho by the arm and pulled him closer. “I broke my leg when I ran and passed out in the middle of the big forest. Other survivors found me and brought me to their village, they healed my leg and it took about half a year. They taught me so much and I decided to stay there for a while, okay?”  
Minho squirmed in Thomas’ grip and strained against it until he let lose.  
“That is your excuse? That is your excuse for making us think you were dead? You left us. You left me.”  
“I had my reasons.” Thomas stared at the ground and ran his hand through his hair.  
“They better be good. ‘cuz you ran away like a coward and you just didn’t come back until now.”  
“My world was collapsing around me and my world kept getting worse and worse and I couldn’t just sit there and watch and it was killing me. I couldn’t think about anything else, it occupied my mind all the time. That’s when I realized. I wasn’t okay. And it was bad, really bad. So I ran.”  
“Do you think I was okay? I wasn’t. I fucking wasn’t. And when I was on the ground, you weren’t there to help me up again. My world was shattering around me.”  
Thomas slowly lifted his head and looked at Minho, who was just a few inches away from him now.  
“That’s what I’m talking about.” He muttered.  
“What?” Minho’s eyes widened.  
“You are my world.” Thomas’ eyes filled with tears. “And I am a fucking coward for running away. And you wanna know why? Because I’m in love with you and it was too much for me to handle. I couldn’t deal with it. I stayed in that village because I thought I wouldn’t think about you anymore if I was just far away enough. But I was wrong. I was so goddamn wrong. I fell in love with you more and more every single day. And all I could do was think about you until I couldn’t do it anymore. You are the last thing I think about before I fall asleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Minho, I am in love with you.”  
Minho felt his insides collapsing, felt the thoughts rushing through his head, felt his limbs stiffen like electrified wires.  
Then he realized.  
He didn’t hate Thomas. He never did.   
It was himself, he hated.  
He hated himself for letting Thomas go out there in the middle of the night.  
He hated himself for not stopping him.  
He hated himself for telling himself he hated Thomas.

“I was so stupid, thinking you were the one killing me, when you were the one who saved me in the first place.” Thomas whispered those words and then stared at Minho. “I can’t believe I just-“  
Minho grabbed Thomas by the arm and pulled him closer and shut him up by kissing him.  
Thomas shrieked, but then relaxed and leaned into the kiss, hooking an arm around Minho’s neck, while Minho cupped Thomas’ face with his hands.   
After a time that seemed like an eternity, they both pulled away to breathe.  
“What the hell have we been doing the last three years?” Minho asked and smiled, his face still close to Thomas’, their foreheads touching.  
“We could’ve been doing this the entire time. God, I am such an idiot.”  
“Damn right you are.”

Five years and six months after they escaped, Minho woke in Thomas’ arms.  
The rising sun shone right through the curtains and made Minho squeeze his eyes shut.  
He got used to the brightness after a while, though and realized that he’d actually slept through.   
Minho lifted his head to see Thomas still asleep, but he looked like his eyelids were right about to flutter open any second.   
Minho traced Thomas’ collarbones with his finger and smiled.  
He was so in love with him.  
Thomas mumbled something in his sleep and then reached for Minho’s hand, pulling it up to his cheek and leaned into his palm.  
Short after that, he fell asleep again.

Their legs were tangled together, Thomas’ arm was slung around Minho’s waist.  
They laid face-to-face when Minho woke the next time.  
Thomas was awake already, stroking Minho’s waist with his thumb.  
“Minho?” Thomas asked.  
“Yeah?” Minho answered and shuffled closer to him.  
“I realized something else.”  
“What is it?”  
“I realized that you aren’t my world.” He paused and gave Minho a kiss on the forehead. “You are my universe.”  
Minho smiled and Thomas smiled back, so genuinely as Minho had never seen it before.

Five years and six months after they escaped, Minho was happy.


End file.
